


The Weary World Rejoices

by Padapuppy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon - TV, Christmas, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:52:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padapuppy/pseuds/Padapuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is dead-set on celebrating Christmas, but Dean doesn't really get what he's so hyped up about.  It's not like Christ was even born on Christmas day, right?  So why does it matter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weary World Rejoices

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clockworkrobots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/gifts).



“Come with me.” Castiel words come out like rough sand paper, and he holds out his hand, palm up, waiting ever-patiently for Dean.

Dean looks around like maybe someone will see in this dark and empty motel room, and he takes his hand, face scrunching up to show his level of discomfort.

It’s not that he doesn’t like touching Castiel. That’s not it at all. It’s where Castiel is taking him, their destination that has Dean looking so uncomfortable. Well, it’s not where, not really. It’s more of a when.

When Dean closes his eyes, he’s still in the motel, but when he opens them, the first thing he sees is night, is sand and he can smell hay, strong like he’s in a barn, and, well, he kind of is.

Dean takes in the sight of the animals, fat and plump and gathering around something Dean can’t quite see yet.

“He’s not the son of God, you know.” Castiel says conversationally, but when Dean looks at his face, the angel’s eyes are gleaming.

Dean gets Christmas. He gets the birth, how God’s son supposedly saved everyone from eternal damnation, but nowadays, that’s not Christmas. It’s gifts and food and that’s about it. He’s here to see why Castiel insists on celebrating, at least that’s what Castiel had said.

His previous argument that _Cas, the dude wasn’t even born on Christmas_ fell flat when Castiel told him that the day didn’t matter. No, it was what that birth meant for humanity.

Hearing that Jesus was not God’s true son isn’t all that surprising, but Dean’s even more confused because he doesn’t understand why it’s important.

Still, Castiel leads him a few steps closer, and he can see the babe in his mother’s arms, see him sleep just like any other child would. The animals surround them like a cage, like a barrier of safety and protection. People, kings are gathered ‘round, some weeping at the sight of this ordinary little boy.

Castiel, beside him, is squeezing Dean’s hand, and he whispers, eyes never leaving the child. “Look. Dean, watch what happens.”

The babe opens his eyes, and Dean swears he’s looking around, and for a second, Dean’s heart seems to stop. There’s nothing, nothing at all that would make anyone believe that this child is so special, so wonderful, so all of these people, the animals, the angels…Dean doesn’t get it.

“Cas, I don’t-“

He’s interrupted by another squeeze from Castiel’s fingers. “Watch.”

And he does. He sees paupers and kings exchange words, sees the babe being passed around like he’s something sacred and precious, and he sees, no, he feels the hope that they all do in this moment. When the child is passed by him, their eyes lock briefly, and Dean feels the threat of tears springing at his eyes.

It’s too much, and Dean closes his eyes. The next thing he knows, they’re back in the motel room. He wipes his cheeks and under his nose, sniffs hard and clears his throat. Dean shifts uncomfortably and finds that his hand is still locked in Castiel’s.

“Did you see?” Castiel asks, and his voice is the way it is sometimes, when Castiel is excited and in awe, and it doesn’t happen much expect in the way that it totally does.

“I saw. N-no. No, I felt it, Cas.”

Castiel smiles over at him, big and bright, and Dean feels the press of dry lips on his own before he sees the angel move.

Later, when they’re curled up in a bed far too small for two grown men, Castiel speaks softly, tells Dean about how hope can change the world, how it did, and how it still does. “You see,” Castiel speaks with animation, and he sounds jovial, so, so very into what he’s saying. “You see, Dean, hope is an amazing thing. The birth of that child forever changed how the world saw life, how it was valued. One baby, one innocent little boy, righteous and humble, saved the world.” 

Dean looks to him quizzically, cocks his head to the side, mirrors a position that he often sees Castiel taking. “What? You-you can’t. No.” Dean’s not naive, and he knows he’s not worthy, shouldn’t even consider the small possibility of what Castiel could be saying.

Castiel doesn’t say another word for a long time. His lips seek out Dean’s again, and if feels like he’s being worshiped. Castiel doesn’t leave an inch of Dean’s body untouched, not one, and when it’s over, they’re tangled in each other.

“Hope is an amazing thing, Dean.” Castiel repeats, and Dean ducks his head. “One life, just one human soul can do anything if people believe.”

And Dean thinks he gets it. He doesn’t like the attention, but he understands now. Because Dean doesn’t want to think too much on it, he gives Castiel his signature smirk, cocks a brow. “So what you’re saying is that I’m like Jesus?”

Castiel snorts, shakes his head. “No.”

Well, so much for Dean’s theory being right.

“No, you’re not like him. Christ was an important man, Dean, but he was just a man. He didn’t do anything. He just…was.You, on the other hand, saved them all. You, your brother, Bobby. You three are the things from which legends are born. One day, Dean, one day humanity will read your gospels, and they will weep for some of them missed your presence. They were alive during their time, and they never knew you even existed. You saved them, all of them, and they will weep for not knowing you when they had the chance. People will know your name, will sing it out with praise, and you will be forever revered in the highest.”

“Not just us.” And it’s Castiel’s turn for confusion. Dean kisses him, light and lingering, special like the others. “They’ll love you, too. You-you’re in our story. You have to be. Nothing, none of this have happened without you.”

Christmas, like any other day, ends with the two sleeping pressed close, touching wherever they can. Hope, faith, love. All these things, these precious things—Dean barely thinks about them, but when he looks at Castiel, when he hugs his brother, and when he thinks of the memories he has of Bobby, he feels them all. Dean thinks that if Castiel knew that, then maybe, just maybe Castiel could see just how much he’s done for him, how much the angel means to them, to the world. But, then again, Castiel already knows the wonders of what it’s like to be loved by a Winchester. Dean thinks that Castiel believes that feeling that—it’s enough. Hell, who knows? It just might be.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a lovely, dear friend for Christmas. I just hope she likes it.
> 
> Comments, I think they're awesome.


End file.
